Dabbles
by Rayhne
Summary: A series of dabble centering around Bobby and Crowley. Third dabble posted: My take on what happens after Caged Heat. Enjoy! Also a mini-rant: Dabbles, not Drabbles!
1. Dabble 1

**Characters/Pairings:** Bobby, Crowley  
**Rating:** PG-13 for language  
**Summary:** What if things weren't as they appear ... spoilers for Weekend at Bobby's.  
**Notes:** I've ended up writing a series of dabbles that may or may not be related. This is my take on what we found out about Crowley in the episode Weekend at Bobby's. Enjoy!

* * *

Bobby Singer woke up slowly. His mouth was all cottony and dry, his eyes pretty much gummed shut. There was nothing new about that feeling; he'd woken up to it more then he cared to admit over the years. The realization that he wasn't alone in his bed, on the other hand...

He turned his head to look at the other side of the bed. The normally empty side of the bed. Which wasn't empty at the moment. Crowley, the former King of the Crossroads and the current King of Hell, was curled up there, fast asleep. Bobby blinked and rubbed his eyes. Yep, the demon was still there, curled up on his side, one hand tucked under his head, the other curled around his body. He was still dressed in his shirt and trousers, but he was sleeping. And deeply, as Bobby found out when he eased his way up. Glancing down at himself, he was relieved to see that he was still dressed as well, except for his boots, vest, and hat.

Bobby eyed the demon for a long moment. He almost looked peaceful sleeping there, but that didn't stop the hunter from planting a foot against him and shoving him off the bed. He grinned at the crash the demon made as he connected with the floor, and swung his legs off the bed, reaching for his boots.

"What the..." Bobby looked over his shoulder, grinning at the sight of a rumbled Demon King blinking back at him. "What was that for?"

Bobby paused, glaring at him. "Be glad you didn't end up with an ass full of rock salt," he growled.

Crowley humphed. "That's gratitude for you," he grumbled as he pushed himself up to sit on the bed.

"Grati... what?" Bobby glared at him, and Crowley looked at him in surprise, then the demon's eyes narrowed.

"You don't remember?"

Bobby blinking, wondering at the look that had crossed Crowley's face. It had looked suspiciously like relief. Frowning, he thought back on the night before.

He'd gotten drunk. Not that that was a new thing. What had been new was Crowley showing up while he was still on his third glass. They'd stared at each other for a long moment before Crowley snapped a bottle and glass into existence, and joined him. Bobby had blinked at that, wondering if he should grab the shotgun hidden in the couch cushions, but Crowley had just settled into the nearby chair and stretched out his legs, filling up the glass.

Last night had been the anniversary of Karen's death, and Bobby had needed to get drunk in a mad attempt to forget. Not that it ever worked. Eventually he'd started talking. About Karen, about their lives. About their hopes and wishes and shattered dreams. Crowley had listened, matching him drink for drink. He was surprised to see a look of melancholy cross the demon's face more than once, making him wonder at his past. Then he'd remember who he was drinking with, and he'd sneer before returning to his drink.

Crowley had just kept drinking, listening as Bobby rambled on. Then, after the seventh... or maybe it was the eleventh?... time Bobby had jeeringly called him Fergy...

Bobby's eyes snapped to Crowley and he scowled darkly. Crowley's face fell and he sighed. "Damn. You remember."

Bobby didn't answer, just slipped his feet into his boots, stomping a few times for a better fit, and got up, walking downstairs and into the kitchen.

ooOoo

Crowley watched him go with some dismay. Damn! He hadn't meant for that to happen. He didn't mind Bobby knowing, but the hunter would pass the information to the Winchesters, and he really preferred they didn't know. Oh well...

The demon looked down at his rumpled clothes and sighed. With a twitch of his hand, he was dressed in a different suit, the newest from his new tailor. He took a moment to preen, eying himself in the dresser mirror. Damn! He looked good! Now to go do some damage control.

He followed the clatter of pots and pans to the kitchen and leaned against the door-frame, watching as Bobby worked. From the slamming the man was doing, it was easy to summarize the hunter was angry.

"What's the big deal? You got your soul back." Pushing himself away from the door, Crowley started into the room, then paused at the look Bobby gave him. His eyes scanned the room, trying to work out where the bottles of holy water and guns loaded with rock salt were concealed. He'd gained a healthy respect for the man's ingenuity.

Bobby glowered at him. "The problem is... the problem is that if you're not Fergus McCloud, like you claim now, you didn't have to give my soul back." Bobby eyed him as if wondering if he'd been lying the night before.

Crowley was tempted to claim just that, but he discarded the idea with a sigh. "It was in my best interest to lie about who I was."

"So Fergus was a real person? He did sell his soul for a bigger dick?" Bobby's eyes narrowed at Crowley's smirk. "You! You were the demon who made the deal!"

"He was an odious little thing." Crowley grinned. "In more ways than one. Trust me. Those three inches did not help."

"But his son. He thought..." Bobby paused, thinking it over before sighing. "He thought what I told him. He wouldn't have been able to recognize the meatsuit." He eyed Crowley. "You just played along."

Crowley shrugged. "Fergus was a whiner. He bitched about his wife, his kids, his work, everything …"

"Fuck!" Bobby growled suddenly. "He was your tailor!"

Crowley laughed. "Very good. Yes, he was." Shoving his hands in his pockets, he strolled forward, looking at what the hunter was working on. Waffles from the look of it. "A good one too. For the time."

"So threatening the bones didn't do any good. So why did you give me back my soul?"

Crowley turned the question over in his head. With an abrupt wave of his hand, maple syrup, strawberries and whipped cream appeared on another counter. "I didn't need it, so why not?" He slipped off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, reaching for a knife with one hand and the strawberries with the other.

Bobby frowned and Crowley's hands stilled.

"Would you prefer I left?"

Bobby hadn't intended for Crowley to stay for breakfast, but then he glanced at the batter he was making up and scowled, realizing he was mixing more than enough for two. And, as much as he hated to admit it, he could use the company.

"It's okay," he muttered. "So why not just give it back when I asked for it?"

"What fun would that have been?" Crowley chuckled at the sour look that crossed the other's face. "Besides. Demon here. Just giving back a soul would have ruined my reputation. Can't have that. Anyway, you had ten years to find an out."

Bobby blinked, surprised. "So who the hell are you?"

Crowley went still, staring at the chopped strawberries. After a moment he scooped them up and dropped them into a bowl. "Someone best left dead," he said quietly. "Don't bother looking for my bones. You won't find them."

Bobby grunted, wondering what Crowley had sold his soul for. "What happened to the real Fergus?"

"Aaah, well. He tried to cheat his way out of the deal." Crowley wiped his hands, frowning. "I don't suppose it would do any good to ask you not to tell the Hardy Boys about this?"

Bobby arched an eyebrow at him. "Any reason I shouldn't?"

Crowley hesitated, then shrugged. "Never mind. Plates?"

Bobby pointed him toward the right cupboard, then turned back to the waffles.

They ate breakfast and talked about inconsequential things, and after Crowley left, Bobby found himself not telling the boys the truth about the demon. After all he didn't know who he really was, so why bother?

And he never did find out why Crowley stopped by in the first place.


	2. Dabble 2

Crowley walked through the shadows until he reached Bobby's place. He angled for a corner of the living room, the only area in the house where it was safe for him to enter.

At least it had been safe for him. Now he found himself trapped in a devil's trap.

He jerked back from the salt lines, eyes darting around the room, but all he saw was a grim-faced Bobby standing in front of him. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he smiled amicably. "Something wrong, luv?"

"Let's talk about Sammy's soul," Bobby growled.

oooOooo

Dean parked the Impala in the spot he usually parked it when they visited Bobby. Opening the door he straightened, looking around uneasily. "Coming?" he asked his brother.

Sam stirred and got out of the car, looking toward the house warily. "What did Bobby say again?"

Dean shrugged. "Just that if we want your soul back to get our asses over here."

Sam frowned. "You think he kept some kind of hold on Crowley?"

"Maybe. How about we go in and find out?"

"Right." Sam slammed the door shut and followed his brother into the house.

"Bobby?" Dean called out as he entered the house.

"Kitchen!"

They walked in to find Bobby putting away dishes. He looked them over and grunted. "You know where the beer is. Grab me one."

"Right." Dean pulled out the beers, handing one to his brother and setting another near Bobby.

The older man dried his hands and picked up the beer, walking over to join the brothers at the table. He sat across from them and leaned back in the chair, frowning.

"So," Dean said finally. "You know how to get Sam's soul back?"

Bobby scowled. "Yeah. I had no idea Crowley had it or I'd've done something about it sooner."

Dean blinked. "Ummmm, how? I mean, did you get something on him or something?"

Bobby's scowl deepened. "Not exactly." He half-turned to look over his shoulder. "Get your ass in here, damn it!"

Dean blinked, then choked on his beer as Crowley stepped into the room. Sam was already on his feet, reaching for a weapon and Bobby slammed his hand on the table.

"Sit down!" He barked before glaring back at the demon. "And you. Get in here."

The demon scowled back and slunk over, ignoring the boys totally. Dean blinked at his attire. Blue jeans, sneakers and ... was that one of Bobby's shirts?

"Um, Bobby? What the hell?"

"Crowley's been hanging around on and off. You might say we've reached an agreement."

Crowley paused at the refrigerator to pull out a beer and walked over to to sit next to Bobby.

"What kind of agreement?" Sam asked curtly.

Bobby shrugged. "Something like friendship."

"Excuse me?" Both Winchesters said at the same time.

Crowley snickered. "Cute. You two practice that?"

"You shut up." Dean barked. "You and ... him?" He looked at Bobby in disbelief, his expression making his meaning clear.

Bobby snorted. "No," he said curtly.

"Not yet anyway." Crowley smirked, earning a glare from Bobby. "And not for lack of trying."

"Ignore him," Bobby growled. "I do, when he gets in those moods. I didn't know he had Sammy's soul or I'd have dealt with it sooner."

Crowley rolled his eyes at that.

"You ... you can do that?" Dean asked slowly.

"Sure. Once I got him to understand that it mattered. 'Course if you'd just gotten him the damn Alpha, you'd already have it. Or if you," he glared at Sam. "Hadn't tried to kill him after he almost killed himself getting you out of Hell."

"What?" Dean glanced at the stone-faced Sam, then back at Bobby.

"You know, I'm understanding more and more about demons and deal making. It seems that among demons ... hell! Among all supernatural creatures, a Winchester's word ain't worth shit."

"Correction," Crowley muttered. "Shit is worth more."

Bobby glared at him and Crowley slumped into the chair, tapping the bottle against his teeth.

"What? You think he was going to give it back?" Sam said curtly.

"Maybe not, but that wasn't the deal was it? You begged him to get you out of the cage and he did, at great cost to himself. He could have left you there, you know, and you'd still be there."

"Wait a minute." Dean started. "Your soul ..."

"This ain't about my soul. That's taken care of. This is about Sam's soul. Crowley's going to give it back." He shot the demon a sharp look. Crowley looked back sulkily. "On one condition."

"Excuse me?" Dean said. He glared at Crowley. "No deals!"

"Like I'd believe any promise you made," Crowley said scornfully. "You two asswipes aren't capable of honoring your word."

"Not with him." Bobby interrupted. "With me. You ain't killing him once Sam gets his soul back. Or any other time. If you do kill him, you're going to have to deal with me."

"Bobby!"

"I mean it! Got my reasons for wanting him alive. You shut up." He glared at the smirking demon. "He'll give Sam's soul back, you leave him alone."

"The King of Hell. You just want us to leave him alone?" Sam spoke up.

"Yeah well, at least we know who's in charge. And we can deal with him. Least I can. Or would you prefer Meg or some unknown in charge?"

The two brothers looked at each other. "What about the Campbells? Samuel?"

"What about him? Him and Crowley have a business arrangement. One that Samuel suggested and agreed to. You wanna know what it's about, you ask him."

Dean looked from Bobby to Crowley and back again. "He tell you that?"

"He don't lie to me," Bobby said with such certainty that Dean blinked.

"If I agree to this," Sam said suddenly. "This no payback goes both ways."

"You mean I don't get some revenge for you stabbing me in the back?" Crowley sneered.

Both Sam and Dean glared at him and Bobby dug an elbow into his ribs.

"Behave," The hunter growled. "No payback either way."

Dean's eyes wandered from Crowley to Bobby to Sam, obviously torn. He finally cleared his throat. "Bobby, uhmmm. He's not ... you're not ..."

Bobby rolled his eyes. "My soul's my own. You can ask Castiel if you want. And if you got any holy water?"

Crowley grimaced and scooted his chair back as Dean pulled out a flask and offered it to the older man. Bobby took a swig and handed it back.

"Look, I ain't gonna explain it. You'll have to trust me. Crowley'll give Sam his soul back, free and clear, and you leave him alone. If he starts screwing with us, I'll take care of it. And him."

It was the surprisingly hurt look that Crowley shot Bobby right then that convinced Dean. He looked at Sam. "I think maybe you should accept."

Sam glared at him. "Trust him?"

"Trust Bobby." Dean corrected. "We'll have Castiel check next time we see him."

Crowley made a face at that.

Sam hesitated. "Okay. Okay, fine." He glared at Crowley.

Crowley stared back thoughtfully, finally setting the empty bottle on the table. "One stipulation."

"I knew it!" Sam scowled, pushing himself to his feet,

"Sit down!" Bobby spat, turning to glare at the demon. "Crowley," he said in a warning tone.

"No, luv. Besides, it's more common sense than an actual stipulation." Crowley looked at them sternly. "But since you - two seem to lack common sense, I am going to spell it out. You don't tell anyone, and I mean anyone, about our - friendship. " He glanced at Bobby. "There are beings out there who would think nothing of grabbing Bobby and using whatever it takes to attract my attention. And as for hunters finding out." Crowley actually shuddered at that thought.

Dean opened his mouth to protest then paused, thinking it over.

"Hunters would kill Bobby for having a friendship with a demon and you both know that. So no mentioning it to dear Grandpa or to some girlfriend or rambling while drunk." Crowley continued.

"We get it! We get it!" Dean snapped. "Now how about we get on with this?"

"Fine." Crowley rose. "Come on."

"What?" Dean stood up but didn't follow.

"Getting his soul back isn't an easy thing, not for him. Might be better if the moose were laying down when he got it back. Just so he doesn't have so far to fall. Less damage to the floor and all that."

The two brothers exchanged a look. "What have you been doing with it?" Sam asked tentatively.

The demon gave him an exasperated look. "I've been letting the hellhounds play with it. What do you think I've been doing with it?"

"Crowley!"

The demon gave Bobby a surly look. "You're taking all the fun out of this," he muttered. "Don't worry. It's been safe. Now lie down." He waved a hand at the couch.

Sam hesitantly obeyed, keeping a wary eye on the demon. Crowley didn't approach any closer, he just waved his hand. Sam blinked and gasped, looking like he'd just been smacked in the head with a two-by-four.

"Whoa, dude." Dean started forward.

"He's fine." Crowley stepped back. "He and his soul just have to reconcile a few things."

"Ah, right." Dean eyed the demon for a long moment. "I wanna talk to Bobby. Minus you. So how about getting lost?"

Crowley glowered at him and Bobby hastily touched his shoulder. The demon visibly bit back whatever remark he was going to make and stepped back. "I'll just start supper then, shall I?" He turned and disappeared back into the kitchen.

"He cooks?" Dean asked.

"Yeah. He's real handy around the place." Bobby glared at Dean.

Dean hesitated then gestured toward the door. Bobby rolled his eyes before leading him out of the house and out into the yard.

"Bobby. This ... whatever it is ..."

Bobby turned to face him. "Do you know what I do all day, Dean?"

"What?" Dean blinked. "I ... no. Not really."

"I do research. I hunt. I fix cars. And I drink. I got no friends, not really." He held up his hand to forestall Dean's protest. "I know what you're going to say and yeah. You and Sam are friends. And Rufus and even the Sheriff." Bobby frowned, rocking back on his heels. "But everything we do is connected to hunting. There's no dropping by for a beer or just to talk about things. Everyone seems to want something. Crowley's the first person in a long time to drop in just to talk." He half-laughed. "Apparently running Hell ain't easy."

"Ah, yeah. I bet." Dean shuffled his feet, obviously uncomfortable. "But, uhm, what he wants. He, ahhh ... makes it real obvious he wants to ... hmmmm."

Bobby smirked. "Wants me to screw his brains out? Or maybe the other way around?" He actually laughed at the gob-smacked look that remark put on Dean's face. "If it happens, it happens. Wouldn't be my first time." He rolled his eyes at the look on Dean's face. "Years ago, when I was younger. Long before I met Karen. I was young and curious and, well, attracted to ..."

Dean threw up his hands. "Whoa! Too much information!"

"Then don't ask. Don't worry, Dean. I know what I'm doing, surprising as that may sound. And I ain't stupid and I ain't blind. If he's messing with me I'll deal with him."

Dean hesitated for a long moment before nodding. "Be careful, Bobby. Remember Ruby,"

Bobby grunted, but before he could say anything, a shout interrupted him.

"Hey, Bobby!" Both men turned to see Crowley on the porch. "I was thinking burgers. Want to start up the grill?"

"Sounds good to me!' Bobby slapped Dean's shoulder. "Go on in. Check on your brother. I'll get the grill going."

"Yeah, sure." Dean walked into the house, pausing by the couch, Sam was asleep for the first time since he came out of Hell and he left him to it, continuing on to the kitchen.

Crowley was at a counter, chopping potatoes. The demon glanced at him, but didn't stop his work.

"Umm, what's that?" He nodded toward the pan Crowley was dropping potatoes into.

"For potato salad. And corn on the cob." He nodded to a bigger pan already on the stove. "The hamburgers are ready, if you want to take them out to Bobby. Might want to take a couple beers along."

Dean hesitated, then shrugged. "Okay."

It turned out to be a remarkably relaxing evening, even with Crowley there. Every now and then one of the Winchesters would remember that he was a demon and tense up, but Crowley would ignore them and they would eventually relax. As night fell, Bobby pulled out bedding and dropped it on the couch.

"You two fight over who's sleeping where," he growled.

"Oh! Slumber party!" Crowley said cheerfully and all three men turned to scowl at him. Bobby sighed and both Winchesters' jaws dropped open.

Crowley was dressed in what looked like light blue silk pajamas covered by a ratty robe they recognized as Bobby's. He wore tartan bunny slippers and something fuzzy was tucked under his arm.

"Is that a toy hellhound?" Bobby demanded.

Crowley blinked, glancing down at the toy in question. "Maybe. Why?"

"Just wondered what one looks like." Taking the toy, he examined it before handing it back, scowling at the expectant look on the demon's face. "Just stay on your side of the bed," he finally muttered, turning to walk up the stairs.

"Whatever you say, luv." Crowley followed sedately.

"And don't call me that!"

"Yes, dear."

Bobby stopped dead and the boys watched, fascinated, as he struggled for control. After a moment he stomped his way up the stairs.

"And stop looking at my ass!" They heard him bark as he stormed toward his room.

"Sorry." Crowley sounded cheerful. "So not possible."

Bobby's growl was loud enough for the boys to hear. "Next time you walk up first!"

"So you can ogle my ass? Deal!"

Whatever Bobby said, if he said anything, was muffled by the slamming door. A moment later it opened again then closed more gently.

Sam took advantage of Dean's distraction to drop half the bedding on the floor and started putting the couch together. "I give them a week," he said finally. "Before they either kill each other or fuck each other senseless."

Dean threw a pillow at him "Thanks a bunch! That's an image I so did not need!" He threw the bedding in front of the fireplace and kicked everything into place before sitting to pull of his boots.

Sam set a beer next to Dean's makeshift bed and collapsed on the couch.

"Bitch."

"Jerk."


	3. Dabble 3

"He said he would bring it." Castiel glared at Bobby Singer. "That was the agreement."

Bobby looked up, too old and too tired to be intimidated by the angel's posturing. "He said it may take him a few weeks. It's been just a little over three so how about you suck it up and be patient."

Castiel's glare deepened but before he could do or say anything drastic, a familiar voice interrupted.

"Hello, love! Miss me?" Crowley stood in the doorway, a wrapped object cradled in his arms. He looked exhausted, dark circles under his eyes but he was smiling.

"Is that it?" Castiel started forward but Crowley's arms tightened around the parcel.

"Hang on a minute, feathers. I've gotten you what you wanted. We're even now. No more tormenting the demon. Well. This demon."

"As long you stay – dead."

Crowley smirked. "No problem there." He finally said, giving Bobby an unreadable look. Bobby glowered back, though his eyes crinkled in amusement.

"And I will need that back," Crowley gestured at the bundle, which he'd finally relinquished to the angel.

"Why?" Castiel plucked at the covering,

"Because that was the agreement, And if you're going to look at it now kindly take it outside." He gestured at Bobby. "Human here."

Castiel hesitated. "Of course." Cradling the bundle, Castiel walked out the door.

Bobby sighed then grunted as he suddenly acquired a lap-full of demon.

"Miss me?" Crowley asked cheerfully, his arms slipping behind Bobby's neck. They were almost nose-to-nose and Crowley took the opportunity to rub them together.

"Like I miss a freaking leech," Bobby muttered, though he made no move to push the demon away, "So how'd it go?"

Crowley grimaced. "Took me some time to convince them I could survive and did and then to get what Castiel wanted." He grinned and wiggled against the other man. "Do I get a reward for being a good little demon?"

Bobby rolled his eyes but before he could say anything, the angel walked back in, the bundle once again tightly wrapped. He paused, looking from hunter to demon. Bobby blushed slightly but Crowley grinned back, unabashed.

"That's a loan, angel. Remember that."

"I understand." He looked from Crowley to Bobby, frowning. "Do you need ..."

"No," Bobby said abruptly. "I don't need any help."

"So how about you go play pizza man and waiter with ..." Crowley yelped as the hunter pinched him sharply.

Castiel blinked at him before mumbling something and vanishing. Bobby looked back at Crowley, opening his mouth to say something only to have any words cut off by the demon's mouth meeting his.

Ten minutes later, he managed to pull back, his breath coming in hard gasps. His eyes rested on Crowley kiss-swollen lips, a part of him speculating how good they would feel on a certain part of his anatomy. That particular part of his anatomy was currently so hard it actually hurt. Of course a certain part of Crowley's anatomy was poking just as persistently at him and the demon's eyes were dark with lust.

"Now what happens?"

Crowley arched an eyebrow and pressed against him, hardness against hardness. "We find a flat surface or not so flat surface ..."

"After that!" Bobby barked then he flushed as he realized he was admitting he wanted to fuck the demon. "I mean, are you staying?"

Crowley blinked, obviously surprised. "Of course. That is, if you want me to." He suddenly looked uncertain.

Bobby snorted, tightening his grip on the demon's hips. "And then? Gonna just hang around or ..."

"Well, I have new, or rather old, responsibilities to get back to but nothing that will keep me from home long. None of which have anything to do with Hell." He smiled at that thought.

"Good." Bobby grunted, eyeing the staircase thoughtfully. A part of him wondered if they would make it up to the bed or if they were going to end up consummating their relationship on the stairs. Well, it did qualify as a flat surface. "So what's this new-old identity you're going back to?"

"Hmmm?" The demon's eyes were half-closed as he rocked against Bobby.

Bobby bit his lip, struggling to control himself. In desperation he gripped Crowley's hips harder, holding him still. "You said this was an old identity that you could take back up. So who are you now?"

"Oh." Crowley blinked then grinned. "Valda. Benedict Valda."


	4. Dabbles, not Drabbles!

Dabbles, not Drabbles!

I have been accused twice of false advertising; that these are not drabbles. Those people are correct. These are not drabbles (whatever those are). These are dabbles! Please do not email me about how my 'drabbles' are not really drabbles because they are too long or are part of the same storyline or whatever. These are dabbles, which is my way of saying a short-short story that is part of a storyline but isn't really a complete story. It may just be a scene or it may be a couple of scenes. It's not a complete story, just me dabbling in a universe, rewriting scenes or whatever.

It was suggested that I up the rating of the dabbles so they are now M.


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